


But If You Really Hold Me Tight

by eccentric_artist_221b



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Titanic (1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Blueberry Scones are Tony's favorite, Fluffy Winter ficlet challenge, Gen, Mild mentions of abuse, RMS Titanic, Snowflakes in hair, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 21:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17108141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentric_artist_221b/pseuds/eccentric_artist_221b
Summary: Peter leaves a special gift at Stark Manor on a snowy night in December, 1912(Set 2 months before my fiction, Only for a Little While: An Irondad/Titanic AU)





	But If You Really Hold Me Tight

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet takes place two months before Only for a Little While. I felt like some historical/wintery irondad, okay!!?? XD  
> I actually had no intention of writing anymore for the 12fluffyprompts2018(because no time)…and then I spent last night crying myself to sleep and I needed a hug…and this was born:

_December 20 th, 1912_

_Stark Manor, Southampton England_

“A gift?” Tony asks.

“Yes, indeed, sir!…Oh, do read the tag, sir! They’ve written your name just there on the side, see?” Mrs. Whitmore replies, incapable of bridling her glee for the master of the house.

Tony steps closer and stares down at the small picnic basket sitting in his entry way. A forest green bow sits atop the wicker cover and, sure enough, there beside it, reads his name in bold and scribbled chicken scratch on a small piece of torn butcher paper. Somehow, he already knows who it’s from…

_The baker’s servant boy…_

_Peter…_

As he lifts the lid, his nose detects aromatic notes of citrus, cinnamon, allspice and best of all, blueberries. “When were these dropped off?”

_Why didn’t you say hello, kid?_

“Just a moment ago-” the housekeeper replies, causing her employer to bolt for the grand doors with his black overcoat. “-but it’s supposed to be a secret, sir!!” she calls after him, waving her hands in dismissal when she knows it’s futile.

Tony runs out into the night, feeling tiny snowflakes brush his cheeks and swirl around his limbs. The world around him lies frozen and still, save the crunching sounds beneath the costly shoes he’s currently trying to sprint in. They prove a useless thing outside in the elements; he can already feel the wetness soaking through to his toes with each step.

It’s impossible to hide a grin when he catches the secret giver’s silhouette at the end of the driveway, his thin frame haloed by the long line of powdered lampposts.

“Kid! Wait!”

Only, Peter doesn’t wait. If anything, he’s picking up speed…

Tony’s gasps for breath.

_When was the last time he’d actually exerted himself like this? Was he out of shape or just old? Probably both…_

He tries the boy’s name next.

“Peter!…Peter!!”

The millionaire rolls his eyes, exasperated, but unwilling to let the teen out of his sight.

“Alright…gonna make me run for it?” he says under his breath, pushing himself to catch up to the kid at all costs.

_He’s almost right behind him now, but why isn’t Peter turning…Why is he-_

“PETER!” he cries, grabbing the boy’s arm and whirling him around.

He sucks in a sharp breath when he sees the kid’s face.

Peter’s eyes are swollen and red from crying, bottom lip trembling as he tries to look away from Tony. The lights hovering above him blow his cover, but he still can’t help but pull his tweed cap down until the older man can’t continue staring at his torment.

It doesn’t help.

He feels Tony’s fingers slowly pull up on the moth-eaten bill, unruly curls tumbling out of hiding as the frozen air hits his scalp.

“Half-pint…”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.” _He can’t do this. He shouldn’t do this…_

Peter’s already feeling so foolish for dropping off a peasant’s fare to one of the richest men in the world. Was he to cry on his stately shoulder next?

None of his actions are proper…he’s amazed the staff even allowed him to step foot in the manor in his raggedy attire with his skinny calves visible through the holes in his high stockings.

“Tell me…Come on, I want to hear all of it, kiddie,” Tony says.

Peter shakes his head from side to side, but the older man is stubborn, tilting the boy’s chin up with gentle force.

“Parker, maybe I didn’t make myself clear. You’re not leaving this property until you come clean, do you understand me?”

There’s a fear in Tony’s tone, despite the intent to sound authoritative, as if he’s already making his own assumptions to Peter’s plight.

_‘But I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.’_ Peter thinks.

Shame manifests in the teenager’s throat as a long and squeaky sob rips through his teeth, keeping the rest of it in by sheer willpower as he sets his jaw.

“Quit that,” Tony orders, and for a split second, Peter thinks his only friend is referring to his weakness.

“You let it out, kid. Right now…If you don’t it’ll kill you.”

The moment the boy is commanded to release his emotions his body bypasses all self-control. Peter brings his hands over his eyes as quiet sobs begin wracking his frame.

“That’s it, buddy. Don’t be ashamed, alright? Hey…” Tony continues, “You just cry.”

The millionaire pulls the boy in to a tight hug. Only this time it’s a yelp that tears from Peter’s throat.

“What?! What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Pete-“

“I fell!” Peter screams, brown eyes wide and filled with hysteria, “I fell off the ladder!!”

“Kid-“

“I said, I fell off the ladder!!…It was an accident, Mr. Stark!! I fell!! I fell!!”

“Okay-okay-Pete-okay,” Tony interjects, tucking the boy’s head under his chin as fresh wails muffle against his chest.

“I fell!…I fell.”

“Okay. You’re okay…” Tony stares down at the gate, at a complete loss as to what he could do.

_The baker._

_That bastard had beat this precious soul yet again. He’s sure of it._

He despises this world he’s living in. Children half starved, slaving in the streets for a crust of bread…abused by the very people they must rely on…

And here he was with money pouring from out of his pockets, with such limited power to such a worldwide crisis. How could he possibly help this child when even the laws of the land refused to bring aid? There had to be a way… _There was always a way…._

It’s some time later when Tony speaks up again.

“Mind if I take a look?” he asks, “We could go back inside for a bit and put some ice on it-alright-alright-alright, hey, nevermind.” He stops himself when Peter starts pulling away like a frightened animal. “Look I’m not gonna make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with…just know that if you need something…”

Peter’s eyes well up anew.

“…anything,” Tony adds, “I’m all yours, kid, alright? You hearing me?”

The teenager nods, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring down at his boots. “I should really be going now, sir.”

“You wanna hunker down in the manor tonight? I could drive you home in the morning.”

Tony can’t help but ruffle the snow piling up in the boy’s messy tresses, relieved to see a smile forming on that youthful face in doing so.

For a moment, Peter imagines what it would be like to live with Tony…

Not because he could have everything he’s ever wanted…or feel what it’s like to eat until he’s full…or even know he has a bright future ahead of him…

As he stares in to the older man’s eyes, he just wants…

_This._

But what is this?

“Thank you, Mr. Stark, but…I’m fine.”

Tony furrows his brow, “You’re fine? How are you fine?”

“Well, I-I-I mean, I should probably just head back to Oxford Street…friendly neighborhood baker boy…somebody’s gotta greet the customers before the sun rises tomorrow.”

“Turning me down?” the millionaire asks in overt disappointment. “You better think about this. Look at that.” His index finger points at his grand abode, “Look at me.”

Peter is looking at him; he hasn’t stopped.

“Yes or No?”

_Yes! A thousand times, yes._

“No.”

“Okay…I know it was a bit spur of the moment, maybe a little weird and out of character for me…”

_…the fact that you’re terrified of the repercussions._

“…Uh…Happy will take you home.”

“Happy?”

……………………….

Peter does not expect to be climbing up and on to a towering dapple-colored thoroughbred named, ‘Happy’, twenty minutes later, but here he is.

He winces from the movement, back throbbing from the hidden bruises on his backside.

Tony helps him up the rest of the way, leaning to pat the horse’s neck in thanks for carrying a bit of extra weight tonight. (It really was just a bit.)

“Are you sure he can…I-I-I can just walk if-Whoa!“ Peter says, throwing his arms around Tony’s middle when the horse begins to walk out of the massive barn.

“Been awhile since you’ve ridden there, half-pint?” Tony says, tilting towards Peter’s direction and sniffing in amusement, “Or is it the rider that’s got you spooked?”

“…’s just been awhile,” Peter replies.

The teenager can’t remember the last time he’s gone horse riding; even as a child, they only had a tired old pony. This steed was particularly _TALL_ ….

He feels the snow kissing his cheeks again as they exit the shelter, squinting to see the street lights in the distance as more flakes collect on his eyelashes.

“Well, at least, now, I’ll sleep a little better, knowing you weren’t traipsing home, like an idiot, alone in the snow,” Tony says after a while, “…especially after your ladder injury.”

Even through his thick coat, Tony can feel the boy stiffen behind him, thin fingers twitching at his waist.

_He’d beat the living daylights out of that vile man someday._

“Thanks again, Mr. Stark.”

_Tony doesn’t want to be thanked. He just wants the boy’s safety…and when did he start getting so soft?_

“Eh, no need, kid. Gives me an excuse to avoid Mrs. Whitmore’s endless fretting.”

“Does she worry about you?”

“Sometimes…”

“Why is that?”

“Because I tend to get a little cranky this time of year.”

“Is it because of the cold? I could understand that, Mr. Stark. My mom used to say the older you get, the less you can handle the eleme-“

“Hey, Anne of Green Gables…First off, I’m fourty-eight, not eighty-four….and maybe keep questions down to a minimum? Nobody likes a nosey nancy.”

_Could he be more of a hypocrite? Tony’s sure he wins that prize._

They reach Peter’s street a little while later. The boy fights every instinct to cling tighter to Tony as the horse stops in front of the dark bakery. The millionaire bristles as he stares at the building. How easy it would be to go rouse the abusive good-for-nothing out of his drunken slumber just in time to connect his fist with man’s jaw.

“You’re not moving.”

_And I know why, buddy. I know…_

“Uh, y-y-yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Peter whispers, throwing his right leg around as he somehow lands with both feet on the ground.

Tony sniffs once….twice…three times before he decides what to say, “You sure you don’t wanna just…come on back and…cure my boredom?”

Peter stares up with a brave smile, one that Tony can see right through and he hates every bit of this.

“…’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I can’t,” Peter replies, “Thank you…for…you know…”

The older man manages a nod just for the kid, gripping the reigns tightly in his fists.

“Anytime…and thank you for trying to fatten me up for the winter. I’m already dreaming about breakfast in the morning.”

He watches the teen move towards the horse, brushing the dark gray mane and giving the beast’s nose a good rub down. Happy gives him a friendly nudge in return and Peter’s giggles feels so out of place. “Thanks, bud. You take care of Mr. Stark, alright?”

_You’re the one who needs taking care of, kid._

“Well, Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Pete.”

Tony stays there for another ten minutes.

_Listening._

_Hoping._

_Watching._

And then, to his utter embarrassment, the kid appears again in the window, barely lit by a single candle as he draws back the curtain a little ways. Tony can see that he’s already dressed in a long striped nightshirt, curls poofed from a quick drying off with a towel.

_This boy._

_You’re getting way too attached._

With face burning, Tony gives a final wave and Peter returns it, waiting for the man to turn and gallop out of sight before the candle goes out.

.............


End file.
